Deceit
by Avium
Summary: [Crawford x Ken] Sometimes, it takes just one word to change everything forever.


**Deceit**

Disclaimers: Don't own these lovely gents. Don't want to either, actually – too much smut XD

Author: Avium

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Crawford x Ken

Fic length: One-shot

Timeline: Indefinite

Author's note: Written for the Livejournal community Temps_Mort's fortune cookie challenge, with the infamous Sunscreen Song inspiring the line that was used – "Do one thing everything that scares you". 

-@-@-@-@-

Happy-go-lucky – that was what they called him. It certainly wasn't due to undying enthusiasm that earned him that tag; neither had he done anything to call attention to himself. He worked through the days with such a precise routine that should one not be paying attention, he wouldn't have been anything more than a part of the scenery. And while he moved through life there was always a ready smile for adopting at a moment's notice. The tagging of him as 'happy-go-lucky' had therefore been met with much head nodding and an odd snigger or two.

Perhaps… he was truly a cheerful person by nature? He had briefly pondered over the possibility, and decided that it might be so, but only accepted it as a half-truth. He made it a point to never make exceeding shows of negative emotions, and if he had to vent he would do it in the privacy of his own abode – only when the others were all out, of course. It was therefore inevitable that people soon came to see him as immune to all the nasty aspects of life as a murderer.

Did he mind that?

No, not a bit at all. It was much better than brooding and killing himself slowly with guilt, given how a false smile could sometimes translate to a gradual lifting of one's emotional state.

Though… he found the light mood harder to call forth whenever their chance of running into Schwarz rose as the clock ticked closer to the forbidden nights. 

There would be this tiny part of him that jolts with both panic and sweet tension whenever a certain man moved within his line of vision. Their eyes would meet, and they would look to each other as if issuing silent challenges. But they never spoke – never on the battlefield at least. Eventually, one of them will turn to walk away, leaving the other unharmed and unscathed, though perhaps a little unnerved by the encounter.

Brad Crawford always walked away first.

When the Schwarz leader left, the boy would feel the stirrings of relief and anger all melded together in one mind. But he dared not push his luck. He knew that there would be the day when he would run out of it, and if his team mates saw him standing so close to Crawford but not intending to harm the man, he would be forced to commit violence.

They knew it from the start – one would die by the other's hands.

He didn't want it to happen so soon, though, even if it was just a matter of time.

He wondered if the man felt the same way?

-@-@-@-@-

Another strange night in another strange bed.

That was how it was between them. He would let himself be taken and used for the man's pleasure with no complaint, and afterwards the man would ask him about his work. Never about his daily life, though – it was something that was entirely too personal a topic. And Crawford wasn't one to invite personal revelations from a convenient fuck.

Today the man had splurged on their accommodations – the bed was almost obscenely large for even two sprawling bodies. In spite of the ample arm space, neither had made the move to untangle from their intimate joining. 

He looked up to find the man's steely amber gaze meeting his; he looked up at kiss-bruised lips uttering cold questions. 

He looked away in fear.

He didn't open his eyes – not even once as Crawford took him for his own again. They remain squeezed shut until he felt the man shifting away from over him, and he opened his eyes to see the raven-haired man putting on his spectacles before he dressed to leave.

Brad Crawford always walked away first.

Suddenly, he felt very cold.

-@-@-@-@-

It had came on the HIFI set late one afternoon, when he was minding his own business and entirely too preoccupied with his thoughts to have taken notice of the noise – if it weren't for the fact that he registered a monotonous voice speaking short English phrases over a track instead of a song. He looked towards the doorway in time to see Aya leaving the room for the kitchen. 

He reached for the CD insert laid across the table, completely befuddled by the long streams of foreign words before long.

"There is a Japanese translation on the back."

He jumped slightly at the man's voice speaking out to him suddenly, but managed to unknot his fingers sufficiently to flip the insert over. For several minutes he read the neatly printed lines, and at length he handed the insert back to Aya.

The song had been on replay for at least four times by then.

But one line stuck.

"Do one thing everyday that scares you."

-@-@-@-@-

"So you let him get away. Impressive." Cold, unaffected and completely drawn away from the context of the statement in its lilting tone.

Yes, that's got to be Brad Crawford beside him alright.

He waited in silence for the man to cease his display of amusement – an act that seemed to take forever to fade from the man's lips. It might not be an exaggeration to say that whatever he said or did perpetually amused Crawford. 

He stole a glance in the general direction of the man, watching as tendrils of cigarette smoke rose and melted away in the air above the bed. It must have been a habit that Crawford picked up from one of those on his team, he decided.

He continued to wait, feeling for the first time in his life torn into two. He wanted to simply walk away from the room – to demonstrate to the man how little effect he had on him (it would merely require him to lie through his teeth after all). But at the same time, he feared that by walking out of this room, he would be walking out of the arrangement forever.

Time always seemed to stand still whenever he was with him – each waiting for the other to say or do something.

It wasn't love, but it worked for the both of them.

He could walk away forever – he knew he had the power to do so.

Whether he would still be alive ten steps later, well, that was another matter altogether. 

No one walked away from Brad Crawford.

… But that was why nothing ever changed, wasn't it? 

Walk away and cast aside the memories – perhaps then he could pretend to be the same o' happy-go-lucky idiot again. He would finally be able to conquer his chief fear of not knowing where everything was headed for the both of them.

So he forced to his lips a bright smile, eliciting for the first time a surprised look from his partner. He then placed his hands on the mattress to push himself off the bed, before he started retrieving his clothing from the floor.

"You are walking away." The man had uttered it as if it were a statement rather than a question.

He didn't reply to that – he didn't want to. In case his resolve broke together with his forcefully patched-together courage. So he carefully averted his eyes as he clothed himself, finally decently dressed enough to leave the room.

A click – the man had cocked his automatic and aimed it at him. So he stood still, awaiting whatever Fate had in store for him. Fists clenched in sheer determination to not turn around or bolt – either way, he would be dead. By staying still as thus… by forcing that smile on his face to remain there… maybe he would live.

Crawford spoke at last, his voice a little softer as if pleading.

"Stay."

He had not expected that request. But he had already formulated the reply in his head ever since he took leave of the warm bed. The word left his lips before he could stop it.

"No."

He reached for the doorknob and twisted it, opening the door and walking out before his resolve shattered. 

Brad Crawford didn't shoot.

But he felt as he had died all the same.

~ End

-@-@-@-@-

Author's notes: The fortune cookie line came from 'The Sunscreen Song', which was a radio hit when it first aired in 1999. People are torn between calling the song words of wisdom or utter crap. I'm rather fond of it myself; if just for the fact that Baz Luhrmann is linked to it.

And I didn't mean for this post to turn out like this. Initially I wanted to do a Ranken, but while writing it I almost turned it into a Full Metal Alchemist fanfic. Finally, I dragged myself in the direction of my OTP and wrote… Bradken angst. Whee ._.


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